


find your way home

by nyckolodeo_n



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyckolodeo_n/pseuds/nyckolodeo_n
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho let all of his emotions wash over him at once.<br/>The grief, at the acceptance on Thomas’ face when he knew he wasn’t going to be coming back to the Glade that night. The relief and then sadness when Thomas had mouthed those words to him, right as the Doors had closed for the night.<br/>He lets the tears fall down his face, silently waiting for the sun to come up and the doors to open.<br/><em>(“I love you.”)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	find your way home

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mixture between book & movie verse in terms of slang and setup and all that, but it completely disregards anything that happened past Teresa coming up. Which means Thomas and Minho never went to look for the Griever Hole/Section 7, Alby is alive, Chuck is alive, everyone that is relevant in the first book is alive and happy and well and no one has to be sad :D

_("I love you.")_

_-x-_

The second Minho steps through the doors from the Maze to the Glade, he knows something is wrong. He knows he’s cutting it close, that the doors are going to close any minute now, but the group of boys standing at the Doors don’t look very relieved to see him. He looks around, counting the boys he sees and everyone is accounted for, Teresa included. Newt gives him a hard, disbelieving look as he lifts an eyebrow at the Brit in question. He recounts the heads again and that’s when it hits him; Thomas isn’t back from the Maze, yet. “Uhh… Where’s Thomas?”

Newt stares at him in disbelief, as if he’s got three heads or like he’s just asked him to jump off the walls. Minho winces internally, probably not the best analogy to use. “Where’s Thomas? I don’t know, Minho, sir Keeper of the Runners, where _is_ Thomas? He’s _your_ responsibility out there, you should’ve both come back together, forget your hours later than you should’ve been, today. So, tell me Minho, where is our darling Tommy?” Newt’s got an eyebrow cocked his direction, and the rest of the boys are shifting their gazes between Newt and himself, obviously waiting to see if there’s going to be a fight that needs to be broken up. Teresa’s scooted her way to the front, probably the most qualified person to break them up if it comes to that.

Minho doesn’t get it, because he’d sent Thomas back here hours ago, when Minho had found a corridor that he’d never noticed behind the some of the vines on the wall. Thomas was supposed to come back here, Minho was going to memorize the layout of the secret room, and the Minho was going to meet the other boy back in the Map Room. “He should be here, I sent him back hours ago, because I’d found a new place I’d never seen before and I didn’t want him to be late for the Doors closing. I’ve been in that same corridor for the past two hours; that was plenty of time for him to have gotten back.” Newt looks a mixture of concern and anger for sending Thomas off on his own. “Is he really not back yet?” Minho can feel his anxiety growing; he’d become extremely close with Thomas, mostly out of responsibility after the night he’d saved Alby and him in the maze, but because he had come to genuinely care about the other Glader. They spent all of their free time together when they weren’t working on maps and patterns or when they weren’t hanging out with everyone after a dinner. The two had extremely close, both emotionally and psychically. You wouldn’t see them without each other and if you could ever get space between the two, one of them would have a hand on the other’s shoulder or they would have their ankles crossed over one another’s. They were practically inseparable. Most of their time was spent in the Map Room though, the two constantly pushing and searching for a way out; and when it would become too much for Thomas to handle, Minho would be there to console him, to hug him and pet his hair until the other boy would finally relax and occasionally fall asleep. Thomas did the same if Minho was feeling that way as well, cooing under his breath, using soft tones to talk the Asian boy out of his panic and stress induced attacks. If anything had happened to Thomas, Minho wasn’t sure he’d be able to go on without him. It’d been months, maybe even close to a year, since Thomas had shown up. He was Minho’s best friend; he couldn’t lose him.

Newt’s expression had settled on pure terror, but before he could answer Minho’s question, the groan of the doors had shaken everyone out of the tense moment going on between the two seniors. Minho felt his eyes widen and his jaw drop as he turned his attention to the Doors. There was still no sign of Thomas and it took less than thirty seconds for the doors to close, if he didn’t show up soon, he wasn’t going to show up at all; Minho knew that, he wasn’t stupid. The tension in the air seemed to reappear at the realization that Thomas probably wouldn’t make it back, and Minho could see Chuck on the verge of tears to his lest. Minho felt for him, he truly did, but there’s wasn’t anything he could do, no words he could say to console the younger boy. No one seemed to be able to speak, as all of their attention was focused on the Doors and the Doors only. The rumble and groan of the doors closing was the only sound in the air, not even Gally had anything negative to say about what was happening, though him and Thomas seemed to have become less antagonistic towards each other the last couple months.

Fifteen seconds.

The time seemed to move in slow motion, no one breathing, speaking, or moving.

Ten seconds.

There was movement to the right of the closing Doors. Minho shifted his attention immediately and knew something was wrong. Thomas, dread obvious on his face that he wouldn’t make it, was limping just slightly, trying his best to make it through the doors. He wasn’t going to make it, and Minho’s heart fell to the bottom of his stomach.

Five seconds.

Minho couldn’t breathe, didn’t know what to do other than lunge forward into the closing walls. He had to help Thomas, only… only he was being pulled back by both arms, not being allowed to go any further forward that the couple of inches he’d managed with his first step. He thrashed and screamed at those holding him to let him go. “I have to help him let me go!” They weren’t budging, and Minho gave up, heart breaking as the Doors got closer and closer. He looked at Thomas, realization in his eyes and a faint smile on his lips, nodding and mouthing something to Minho before the Doors closed completely.

The loud boom of the doors closing made it even more real. Thomas, his Thomas, was left out in the Maze. _Again._ He had lasted a full night that first time, but Minho knew; he knew there was no way it was going to be able to happen again. There was no way Thomas was going to make it out of the Maze alive in the morning. After all, no one survived a night in the Maze. Minho fell to his knees, tears forming in his eyes. Newt knelt down next to him, and whoever had the hold on his other arm had let go. He could hear Newt telling everyone to go get dinner and finish his (or her in Teresa’s case) duties and go get dinner, but Minho wasn’t paying attention; he just lost who was probably the most important person in his life. His best friend was _gone_ ; the person he loved most was going to die and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Minho didn’t show emotion, he thought that if you let your emotions and feelings get the best of you that you’d go insane, start trying to claw your way out of your own skin. He usually called the other Gladers slintheads or shanks, joking around with them about being weak. But in reality, Minho was just as weak as he joked at the others for being; he cared about every single one of the Gladers, and the emotional stress of having the pressure on your shoulders got to be almost too much sometimes. But how he felt about Thomas, those weren’t entirely new, but they were an entirely different kind of stress and it killed the Asian boy inside knowing that he was never going to get to get these feelings off his chest, the Thomas would never know just how important he was to Minho, how much Minho needed him to go on, how _integral_ he was to Minho’s survival.

The Asian Glader let out a choked out sob as realization of just how real this moment right now was, how true and real it was that he would probably never see Thomas again. He felt Newt slide an arm around his shoulders and he leaned into the slender boys embrace, to weak to do much else, as he tearlessly sobbed into his friend’s chest. Newt ran his fingers through Minho’s hair and the older boy could almost laugh at the irony of it all, of how it should be Thomas doing this, not that he would have had to because if Thomas was here this wouldn’t be a problem; the terrifying idea that they might be scratching another name off the wall in the morning wouldn’t even exist.

He hid his face in Newt’s chest, listening to his friend’s heartbeat and soothing words. _“I love him,”_ he muttered in between each harsh breath that pushing itself out of his lungs. He felt Newt still for a fraction of a second before he seemed to relax and tighten his hold on Minho. Minho could feel himself growing tired, limbs heavy and eyelids drooping, though he couldn’t have been sitting there but a few moments with his friend.

Still, the last words he remembers is, _“I know, Minho, I know,”_ before he’s drifting off into a fitful sleep.

-X-

He only slept a few hours, and when he woke, it was completely dark out, and he’d been moved to his hammock back at the Homestead. His shoes had been taken off and sat neatly on the ground, and Minho laughs internally at the image of Alby and Newt doting on him and making sure he got to bed like a couple of parents. The thought is silly, something he never would have thought twice about on a good day, but right now he wants to think about anything other than… well, other than the Maze. It’s oddly quiet in the Maze tonight, Minho thinks to himself.

Maybe Thomas has already outsmarted the beasts for tonight and is already resting somewhere for the continuation of the night. _Or maybe he’s already been swallowed as Griever Chum ever think of that?_ The more evil part of his brain supplies. He refuses to listen to that part of his brain; it does nothing for his mental state and he refuses to give up on Thomas that easily. The other Glader had buffed up significantly since he’d arrived, not that he was a toothpick or lacking muscle when he had first arrived; he just had less of it then than he did now that he’d been here a while. Minho had seen Thomas shirtless enough times that what he was hiding under those tight blue shirts was a gift. He also may or may not have had fantasies and daydreams about what it’d be like if Thomas walked around without a shirt on more often than not; Minho would never get any work done.

Minho slips out of his hammock quietly, slipping on his shoes before making his way over to the doors. He wasn’t going to get much more sleep anyways, so he might as well spend the next few hours before day breaks staring blankly at the slab of concrete keeping him from going out there and finding Thomas. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, Minho let all of his emotions wash over him at once; the happiness he felt when Thomas had so eagerly wanted to be a runner. The sadness he felt when he thought that Teresa and Thomas were together. The fun and excitement he felt when Thomas dunked Minho and called him a “shuck-head shank” because Thomas would never see Teresa that way and “what are you doing being an emotional slinthead, anyways?” The grief, at the acceptance on Thomas’ face when he knew he wasn’t going to be coming back to the Glade that night. The relief and then sadness when Thomas had mouthed those words to him, right as the Doors had closed for the night.

He lets the tears fall down his face, silently waiting for the sun to come up and the doors to open.

_(“I love you.”)_

-X-

Minho doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the loud boom of the Doors opening for the morning has him jerking upright and sprinting down the corridor in search of Thomas. He hears Newt and Alby calling for him to wait for someone to go with him, but he can’t; there’s no time. He has to find Thomas and find him fast, has to bring him back to the Glade so he can never ever let him go into the Maze again. “Thomas!” he screams as he turns each corner, heading to where they were when they saved Alby that first time. “Thomas where are you!?” His throat is soar after over two hours of running and yelling, but he can’t stop, he’s gotta find Thomas. “Thomas!”

After three hours of running, Minho wants to give up, because if he hasn’t found the other boy by now he probably isn’t going to, not alive anyways. He skids to a stop, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath, before he leans on the nearest wall and slides down it, keeping his knees bent up and letting his arms rest directly across them, head hanging down so his chin touches his chest. He didn’t grab breakfast before he’d rushed out the Doors and he’s regretting that immensely right now, though he hadn’t cared much at the time. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, the pain in his stomach becoming obvious and he groans in displeasure. He lets himself rest and heal itself from the lack of those two things he’d put it through for the past few hours. Newt and Alby are definitely not going to be happy with him when he gets back.

He’s not sure when he drifts off, but when he wakes it’s to someone carding their fingers through his hair and saying, “You’ve really let yourself go, Min. Your hair is at least an inch flatter than when I saw you last,” chuckling after the last word. Minho freezes, because he knows that voice, has spent constant hours and days memorizes all of the tones of that voice in different situations and laced with different emotions. He forces himself to stay asleep, because what if that’s not really Thomas? Thomas spent the night in the maze, there’s no way that’s actually him in front of Minho; it has to all be a dream. But then the voice says, “I know you’re not really sleeping, Minho. Come on shank, open up your eyes.” And Minho knows it’s real. Because dream Thomas wouldn’t be telling him to open his eyes and talking to him like he’s an idiot, but still sound so fond at the same time.

Minho opens his eyes slowly, blinking them a few times so they can adjust to the light and the possibility that Thomas isn’t really sitting there, that it really may all be a dream. Except, after Minho opens his eyes fully, Thomas is sitting in front of him, cross-legged with a dopey grin on his face and his arm still extended to where his fingers are still in Minho’s hair. Minho stares, shocked and speechless; because he thought that he would never see Thomas again. He never thought he’d get to feel his fingers through his hair or his lips pressed to his temple or hear his soothing voice talk Minho down from a panic attack. So many emotions wash over Minho at once that the only thing he can think of to do is to surge forward and kiss Thomas, kiss him and let him know just how important his is to him, and that’s what he does. Neither of them have much practice, but it’s an instinctual drive that keeps it from getting too sloppy or bumping noses too much.

The kiss is soft and sweet and Minho puts everything into it but also not enough. When Thomas pulls back a little, Minho whines and follows him, earning a chuckle out of the other boy. Minho opens his eyes and glares at Thomas, earning him one more quick kiss on his lips before the other boy is pulling back again and reaching for the Asian boy’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Their lips are still resting on each other’s but they aren’t actively kissing anymore. “Hey, Min. You okay?” Minho can feel Thomas smiling against his own lips.

The Asian boy resists the urge to punch Thomas for asking such a stupid question, “You are never, ever allowed in the Maze ever again. Not even after your healed, do you understand me? I thought I’d lost you, shuck-face. I thought I was never going to see you again. You scared me half to death. Never again, Thomas, ok? I don’t even want your excuse for why you decided not to go back to the Glade like I told you, never again do you not listen to me like that, do you understand?” Minho can feel the tears slide down his face as he speaks, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he can go through the feeling of what losing Thomas would be like without completely losing his mind.

“Hey. Min, hey,” Thomas unthreads their left hands and reaches up to swipe the tears from his face. “Min, open your eyes – there you go. I promise, ok? I won’t do it again, okay? I’m okay, though. I’m okay, see? I made it. And I promise I’ll stay out of the Maze for as long as you want me to. You just have to make me one promise if I’m going to let you go alone.” Thomas tilts his chin up so they’re looking directly into each other’s eyes. He smiles, small and private, something Minho didn’t notice until now was reserved for him and him only. Minho raises his eyebrow in question. “You have to promise to come back to me; you can’t be late coming back to the Glade. I need you to always come back to me. I love you too much to lose you to Grievers, Minho. Promise me, you’ll always come back to me.”

Minho looks Thomas in the eyes, sees the desperation, the fear that maybe his feelings aren’t returned or that maybe Minho might not come back one day just to spite him. Minho understands the feeling, and he loves this shuck-face so much that he can’t help but to press a hard kiss to the other boy’s mouth before pulling back and whispering,

_“I’ll always come back to you; I promise, I’ll always come home.”_

The way Thomas smiles at the confession makes his heart swell.

_("I love you.")_

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really awful at dialogue i'm sorry.  
> find me at [here](http://nonbinarysangster.tumblr.com) to give me more things to write about or if you just wanna follow that's cool too :)


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